


hybrid tea

by pseudocitrus



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul:re
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dyspareunia, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Kagune, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5724391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudocitrus/pseuds/pseudocitrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They can't spend so much time together, so Matsumae gives her a gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hybrid tea

**Author's Note:**

> idk i just love them :')
> 
> hope you're having a good day!

Time they can spend together comes fewer and farther nowadays. Once, it takes three whole weeks before CCG missions and Tsukiyama clan duties align well enough for them to steal away into a hotel, and by that time the night is already halfway gone, and there’s barely enough time for anything, much less the third movie in that trilogy that Hairu has been wanting to finish for forever.

“I hate this,” Hairu declares, and waits patiently for Matsumae to echo her.

“It’s unfortunate,” Matsumae replies finally, and Hairu straightens her head up from Matsumae’s lap, indignant.

“But you don’t hate it?”

Matsumae glances over, and strokes a hand through Hairu’s hair.

“Of course it’s abhorrent to me,” she tells her. “But I prefer it to having either or both of us dead.”

Hairu’s frown deepens, and then she huffs.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, “I guess that’s true,” and she sits up and stares at the opposite wall. After a while Matsumae sits behind her, legs draped on either side, arms around her waist.

“I just miss you a lot,” Hairu mutters, accusingly.

“I miss you too,” Matsumae reassures her.

“I want to be with you all the time,” Hairu elaborates, and Matsumae brushes her hair aside and kisses her ear.

“I would like that too. One day we’ll have it.”

One day, one day, one day. But there’s only one hour left before Matsumae has a meeting or whatever, and Matsumae has to spend that time driving back. Hairu sighs, and stands, and starts collecting their clothing from where it’s strewn all around the room. She hands Matsumae’s over in a pile, but Matsumae doesn’t take it. She looks thoughtful.

“One moment,” Matsumae says. “Let me make a gift for you.”

:::

They’re lucky, the next time; it’s only been a week since they saw each other last. Coming inside the hotel room, Hairu hopes vaguely that Matsumae won’t bring the — thing — up, but of course it’s practically the first thing Matsumae asks about.

“How was it?”

“Nice,” Hairu says, “it was good, _super_ good,” and when Matsumae just fixes her with dark eyes, Hairu grimaces.

“It was big,” she admits, in a mutter. “Like way too big.”

Matsumae looks concerned. “Let me see.”

Hairu sets her briefcase down, opens it, and then removes the thing and hands it over, wrapped up in a spare shirt. Matsumae unrolls it free and examines it very seriously, though it’s unchanged from the last time she saw it, when she popped it out of her back like some kind of X-rated capsule ball machine. Hairu buries her warming face in her hands.

“I can’t believe you thought that thing would fit in me,” she moans. “Look how enormous it is.”

“It’s a pretty average size.”

“W-well — okay, well, even so, there’s still all those — freaking _huge_ ridges and bumps and things.”

Matsumae says nothing. After a while she sets the thing aside silently, and Hairu starts.

“I mean — sorry. I mean, I really appreciate it, I don’t mean that I don’t like it, it’s just…sorry.” She flails. “I — I know it was your present and everything, it’s not you at all. I should have told you from the beginning, it’s just…”

Hairu swallows. “It’s just something wrong with me, is all.”

Now Matsumae looks up.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Hairu blushes, a little, but stays firm. “There is. Stuff like that never fit in me. It’s always hurts, and…I think I’m just not big enough, or something.”

“That’s…possible, but unlikely.” Matsumae considers. “Do you have interest in using it at all?”

“W-well — yeah, sure, of course. But like I said, even if I did, there’s something —”

“Nothing is the matter with you.” Matsumae sets the thing down, and looks at her. “Would you like me to try and help you?”

:::

Hairu is doubtful. But…it seems worth a try.

At Matsumae’s instruction, Hairu undresses and lies down on her back on the hotel bed, waiting, as Matsumae — works. When Matsumae approaches the bed, she holds up what she’s made: a handful of — stem-things. Rc cell secretions, hardened into various widths. She sets them on the bed and they roll and clatter against each other as Matsumae hefts Hairu’s legs up and rests them on her shoulders.

Hairu’s legs squeeze together nervously, and Matsumae rubs a thigh.

“We’ll stop if it hurts.”

“O-okay.”

The first part, at least, is familiar. Matsumae gazes down at her and then closes her eyes and inhales deeply and bends her head down, parting Hairu’s folds with her nose, giving her a kiss and then a long lick from bottom to top. Hairu breathes slow and grips the sheets and watches as Matsumae continues, suckling her lips gently, circling the tip of her tongue around Hairu’s clit, over and over and over, slow and with a stretching sigh.

At these times, Hairu always feels like dessert, like shaved ice. Her body heats and melts all at once, and she makes little whimpers she could probably control if she wanted, but doesn’t, because Matsumae always flushes just a little deeper when she lets them free.

When Matsumae straightens next, her chin is wet. Still taking care to support Hairu’s legs, Matsumae shifts, and picks up one of the stems. It’s about the width and breadth of a single finger, and Matsumae rubs it across the edges of Hairu’s sex, and then inserts it. Careful, easy millimeters.

Hairu takes a deep breath in, though this, too, is familiar enough — this much was never too much of a problem for her. The stem only goes in halfway before Matsumae meets resistance, though, and Hairu’s grip tightens on the bedsheets. This is where it hurts.

“I won’t force it,” Matsumae reassures her, reaching forward to stroke her belly. Hairu inhales, and nods, and then makes a small, small noise as Matsumae continues steadily licking her clit and moving the stem in and out. She pushes it lightly but firmly to the left side, and then the right, rubbing and massaging at the taut muscle until…it begins…to yield.

It feels…so… _close_.

“There,” Matsumae says suddenly.

“There what?” Hairu gasps.

“It’s inside,” Matsumae explains, and Hairu sits up on her elbows, with shock. Sure enough — she can only see the stem’s tip. Hairu drops back down onto her back with a shiver, and Matsumae tilts her head.

“Does it hurt?” she asks.

“N-no. It feels…okay.” Hairu bites her lips, and then just says it. “I just want to come already.”

Matsumae smiles, one of her rare smiles of amusement, and Hairu feels her face redden.

“It’s not my fault you’re so good at it,” Hairu tells her, encouragingly.

“You had all week to do it at your own pace,” Matsumae murmurs. She slides the stem out completely, and turns it around in the light, watching it gleam. “Now it’s my turn.”

She sticks it into her mouth, and sucks, tongue curling, lips pursing. When she withdraws it, it’s wet with only saliva, and Hairu feels her body get warmer.

Then Matsumae reaches for the next one.

“Just a little wider,” she murmurs. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Hairu whispers, and Matsumae inserts it, just like the first. Careful, easy millimeters. This one, Hairu feels; she takes in a breath as pain lances through her, and Matsumae quickly withdraws and lays her mouth on her again, soothing, until Hairu’s relaxes back onto the bed.

When Matsumae inserts it again, every tiny push is accompanied by a soft, soft lick that sends waves of pleasure and need throughout her body, drowning out the friction of the stem’s push. Hairu grits her teeth and fights to keep her hips from rocking up against Matsumae’s mouth, tries to remain relatively still as Matsumae does the rubbing thing again, easing the stem in, and in, and in.

“It’s inside,” Matsumae tells her again, and Hairu chokes out, “I know.”

“It hurts?”

“I-it — it feels —” She fights for words. “F- _full_.”

It’s the first time something this big has been inside her. She’s afraid to tense. She holds her stomach, as if that might help steady the panic she can feel creeping and leaving goosebumps on her back, and Matsumae cradles Hairu’s cheek, caressing, drawing a thumb against the corner of her mouth.

“Just a little longer,” Matsumae tells her. “I know you can do a little longer. Will you?”

Her dark, encompassing eyes. Her calming smile. Her breath across Hairu’s trembling sex.

“O-of course,” Hairu says, and Matsumae wastes no time; she bows her head again, and takes the stem in her hand again, and this time her licks are firm and steady and insistent, in rhythm with the stroke in and out of her.

That feeling — _inside_ — is so _weird._ Is so — _deep_. Matsumae stirs around gently and then suddenly eases _up_ , brushing against — _something_ — something that suddenly sends a jolt through her so strong that Hairu chokes. Matsumae halts and Hairu jams a hand onto her head, fingers caged.

“M-more,” she gasps, raising her other hand to bring her closer, and Matsumae obliges, angling and giving a good _push_ that makes Hairu’s whole body spasm, that makes her vision flash white. The noise Hairu makes then is mindless then, a plea slurred by accent and hunger, and she feels Matsumae smile against her, and suck.

“Hahh — _haahh_ —”

Rocking millimeters, spits of electricity, in and out and in and out and in and _in_. In moments Hairu’s knees are bending even further, and her back is arching off the sheets, and her steady breath is losing balance, and Matsumae hitches Hairu’s body closer and pulls it against her mouth as Hairu cries out and climaxes, kicking and squeezing and squirming helplessly on the bed.

Her body aches, afterward. Matsumae rubs her whole body and kisses Hairu’s shaking thighs until they draw still, with exhaustion. Then Matsumae unhooks her legs and rests them on the bed. The stem is gone — somewhere — Matsumae is wrapping it, and the first one, up into a tissue and setting it — aside, or something, who cares.

The space where it was aches a little, and Hairu lies there, giving occasional spasms, breathing deep but giving one weak wriggle against Matsumae when Matsumae lies down behind her and wraps her arms around Hairu’s waist. She rests her face against the crook of Hairu’s neck.

“That wasn’t too bad,” Hairu admits in a mumble.

“Oh? I’m glad to hear it.”

“Weren’t there…like…a lot more of them, though? The…things?”

“Later,” Matsumae says. “We can take it slowly.”

“Really?” Hairu rotates, frowning. “Are you…sure that’s alright? With you?”

“Of course.” Matsumae kisses her furrowed brow. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Hairu swallows. Her frown turns into something sillier, and she presses a quick kiss against Matsumae’s mouth. Startled, Matsumae blinks, and then smiles and draws her closer. With her other arm, she reaches, patting for the remote, and pointing it. The hotel’s television turns on. She drills down into the menus, and Hairu wriggles in a little closer as the movie starts.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
